Dead Men Walking
by sydman24
Summary: Hannibal and Will find themselves trapped and alone in the fall out of the Zombie Apocalypse. Written for a prompt in the Hannibal kink meme.
1. Chapter 1

Where were you when it happened? The common, simple question is always asked when you first meet another survivor. It has taken the place of "how are you" or "how is the weather". Will can remember where he was. It was the last day that everything seemed to be going well. He woke up early from a nightmare; another stag had walked across his dream. But someone had run out of the darkness, screaming, charged the stag and ripped out its throat.

These cases were getting worse. The past three victims, all found in fields, were torn to shreds then left to rot. There was little left for the people to identify anything about the victims with. As Will attempted to watch this killer at work, he found it wasn't actually working. The cases were so sporadic that the only way they could identify them as the same killer was the lack of similarity. A true psychopathic killer.

Will sighed as he dragged the laptop, which Crawford had forced on him a month ago as a birthday present, and powered it back on. The article he had been reading the night before filled the screen. Yet another person was killed while hyped up on Bath Salts. He had been conversing with another man, in the streets of New York City, and had stopped mid-conversation and had ripped out the other man's throat. The man had been shot by an on duty cop. The attacker died, after a shot to the head, his friend was rushed to the hospital.

Will was drawn from his morbid thoughts when Winston licked the fingers of his left hand, which had been resting on his leg. Will smirked and pet Winston's head before refreshing his internet browser and closing the lid. He did not see the updated article that seven, three of them ambulance drivers, were killed by the friend of the late Bath Salts victim.

As Will scooped some dog food out of the can, some of the generic store brand, his phone rang. He glanced down at it, sighed in both frustration and exhaustion, and answered.

"Will, we have to go," Hannibal's calm and cold voice brought Will out of his day dream into the present. Will Graham, age thirty-four, holder of a Master in Phycology, Bachelors in Literature and a Doctorate in Forensics; was now stuck in hell. This state might have been alleviated by his company, the still somehow immaculate Doctor Hannibal Lecter, but he was in the ninth circle none the less. Reaching to the ground next to him, Will picked up the shot gun that sat to his right. Winston sat up from where he had been laying at his masters movements.

Shouldering his gun, Will trailed behind Hannibal, who seemed to know where he was going, even in this hell. Will studied Hannibal, he couldn't help it, and he couldn't shut it off. Hannibal, who had always been in a well pressed suit, he had always been very careful what he put into his body; now he wore a pair of jeans, faded but no holes, a clean t-shirt with a blood red blazer jacket over it. He always changed clothes when they passed through a town. Will looked up at his surroundings, attempting to break his mind of the habit, and he realized he had some idea as to where he was.

"Where are we going?" Will asked perplexed as to why they would be where they were. Hannibal stopped and half-turned to face his traveling companion. He smiled then began walking back to Will.

"I was beginning to wonder," Hannibal began once he had reached Will "when you would realize our destination. I must say, you caught on faster than I thought."

"You're not answering my question."

"I think you already know the answer."

"Tell me where it is we are going!"

"New York City." Hannibal's calm was driving Will nuts. The whole world goes insane, and the one who was crazy to begin with becomes the only sane one left.

"So, So we are going to…?" Will couldn't continue so Hannibal did for him.

"To where this all began, yes," Hannibal stated before turning to continue down the path. Will followed, for lack of a better idea. He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to see all the corpses, both walking around and lying dead. He didn't want the visions, he never wanted the visions.

At night fall Hannibal stopped walking. He was always the one to bring the caravan to a halt for the night. He never allowed a fire, unless they had food that needed to be cooked, and that only happened when they were within a town. He always took first watch. They hadn't stopped in any of the houses along the way to scout for food, Hannibal still maintain a close eye on what he ate and when he ate, seemed to have forgone the idea of food today for the sake of getting closer to their target.

They sat in silence. Will sitting with his back to a tree. Hannibal sitting on a rock hands clasped between his knees, like he was ready to analyze Will. Winston was lying out on the ground at Will's feet. This was normal. Soon Hannibal would suggest Will get some rest. Will would try, of course never actually achieving true sleep, and then half way through the night he would take over watch for Hannibal.

He had never slept well before, because if his empathetic imagination. Now he didn't sleep because all he had were memories of good times. Memories of eating breakfast with Hannibal in his hotel room. Memories of his father and him working on engines in the shipping yard. Memories of his time spent with Abigail, Alana and Jack. These were always the worst, because these dreams would end the same as reality. But he tried to sleep all the same.

"Is this our same killer?" Jack asked looking down at the body. Will was crouched down next to it, studying everything as he tried to relive the murder. But the job seemed half done, and recently to due to the state of decay. It's wasn't working, something was very different and wrong with all of this.

"Jack!" Katz ran over to Jack and Will holding a manila folder. She came to a stop right before her boss, slightly panting but a smile still plastered on her face. "You are never going to believe this. We have a match; five actually, to the teeth marks from our vic."

"Is that not a good thing?" Jack asked, slightly perplexed as to why he would never believe their luck.

"Usually, yes. But the reason we got the results so quickly was they were reported dead several days ago. Several of the bites are almost an exact match to two of our pervious victims, the ones released to their families to burry." Katz handed Jack the folder with a sigh. Jack thumbed through it furiously, he could not believe this. He wanted to scream and yell in frustration but he composed himself and glared at Will.

"Catch this guy before someone else dies!" he ordered in a half yell, storming off back up the slight hill, folder in hand. Will cast a glance at the body and went to stand back up, when the corpse lunged at him. Will screamed and reeled back, slamming his head against the tree trunk.

"Another nightmare," It was less of a question and more of a statement on Hannibal's part. Will sent the older man a glare then ran a hand through his curly hair.

"Just…remembering how all of this began," Will replied, his voice almost distant, in a far off land.

"Your dreams used to give you insight into cases that your waking mind could not. What do these dreams tell you about the past?" Hannibal was sitting on the damn rock, giving him that look.

"Nothing new, just reality mixed with nightmares," Will commented glaring at the ground in agitation. His attention drawn between Hannibal's feet and Winston. "They have a very hind sight 20/20 type of feeling now that I know the outcome. Almost like Ebenezer Scrooge seeing his life with the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future."

"And what do you see in your future, Will?"

Will stared into Hannibal's eyes, blood red color mixed into the brown almost reflective of the blood he spilled prior to all of this, "Blood." He saw creatures over swarm Alana as she made a last stand to buy time for them to escape in the car; Abigail, Hannibal and himself inside. "Death." Hannibal passing him the revolver, explaining what was to happen. "The end of life." Bodies lying on the ground decaying and as Will passed over them he studied their faces. He stopped though when he saw his own lying there, glasses blood splattered and smashed, his throat ripped out.

"How does that make you feel?"

Will drew his knees towards his chest, he braced his elbows on top of his knees then rested his head in his hands. Fisting his hair in his hands he laughs then replies, "I feel like giving up."


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal had told Will to stay behind with the dog, while he scouted ahead. "The dog", Will could never understand why he could never get Hannibal to call "the dog" by his name, Winston. But at the same time, why did he have to stay behind while Hannibal trekked on ahead. He knew why, in reality Hannibal was both looting for supplies and changing his clothes, but he would like to make something else up.

Winston was panting by his right leg, attention drawn between Will and something in one of the buildings across the street. Winston whimpered, let out a yip then whimpered again. Will's attention was pulled back to reality and he pulled up his shot gun, aiming in the direction Winston was looking, knowing Hannibal was not over there. Something moved in the window and Will focused on whatever it was and began to move towards the shop.

A strong breeze cut through the street causing the object in the window to move again, this time though, Will watched it flutter for a second before lying still again. He laughed to himself; it had only been a piece of paper. Will dropped the muzzle of the gun to the ground and looked down at Winston, who was barking now at something. A growl filled the air, followed by a scream, and Will's eyes widened and he quickly brought the gun back up in time to focus on one of the creatures moving towards him.

Will focused in on his aim, he would only have one shot at this and he prayed that there were not more of them in the area. He and Hannibal had learned on the first night that they were drawn to noise, best not to make too much of it. Will aimed at its head and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot gun was loud, and would probably cause Hannibal to head back sooner than wanted, but Will had no choice. Ears ringing, he watched as the creature dropped to the ground. Will walked over to it, in his mind to make sure it was dead, in reality to see if his empathy was still working.

The creatures eyes were a milky blue color, cataracts from the decay and also from the initial death the body went through. Will worked to drop all defenses in his mind, erase the barriers (forts) he built to lock away his connection to people. But nothing was forthcoming. Will could not envision what had happened to this person before he shot them. The wind blew again and the piece of paper that was stuck to the glass of the window was ripped off and fluttered to Will's feet.

Will bent down to pick it up, before the wind could carry it off again. Turning it over he began to read it. The paper was the cover sheet to a newspaper, some local edition, but it was hard to make out because of the weathering it had gone through.

Apocalypse they were calling it, the end of the world. Will refused to believe it. Corpses walking around, attacking people, that idea belongs in a horror movie, not reality. He would not give in and go mad; he needed to get to Hannibal's office for their meeting. It was probably what saved him in the long run.

Will entered Hannibal's office at 2 o'clock exactly, but Hannibal was not at his desk, he wasn't in the room at all actually. Will sat him his seat and waited. Hannibal was never late, and he didn't miss appointments.

"Will," Hannibal's voice cut through the silence, drawing Will from his thoughts about the recent murders. "I am sorry but we have to go."

Will got up to face Hannibal and was shocked to see Abigail, Alana and Jack following behind him. Jack was holding a bleeding hand and Alana was helping him stay upright.

"What's going on?" Will asked advancing towards the group. Hannibal did not answer. Instead he took quick, calm strides towards his desk and began riffling through the drawers. Will looked to Alana, her face was pale, and she had some blood on her clothes from Jack's hand wound.

"Wrap his hand in this," Hannibal passed a roll of ace-bandage to Abigail and began to load rounds into a revolver. Alana held Jack's arm out as Abigail wound the bandage around his hand. Jack cried out in pain at the contact. Will gaped open mouthed, at the group, mostly at Hannibal with a gun.

"Coming Will?"

Will jumped and let go of the paper he was holding, and watched it as it was carried off down the street. He blinked repeatedly at Hannibal, now wearing a pair of dress pants and a new white t-shirt with a black blazer over it. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder and passed a second one to Will.

"It will be dark soon, and we are unable to see in the dark, unlike our friends who are drawn this way because of your gun," Hannibal commented as if he were stating the weather. "We need to find somewhere to rest for the night."

Will nodded and followed Hannibal down the street and back out of town. They never went straight through town; Hannibal said it would draw in to may walkers. Walkers, Dead men, Creatures, Zombies all were used to describe whatever it was they were faced with. Will had no idea what to call them so for lack of a better word he called them people. They circled around the bulk of the town, they were somewhere in New Jersey, and started to search through houses for an empty one to sleep in for the night. They had ended up in a cul-de-sac on the outskirts when night fell.

Will took first watch, sitting in the large front window, curtain half pulled back so he could see outside but the light from Hannibal's cooking would not be seen from outside. Will's head was leaned against the wall and he was getting bored watching the zombies meander around. He could hear the sizzling and could smell the food cooking from Hannibal's temporary work station.

"Why have we seen so few of them?" Will asked casting a glance back at Hannibal. Said man looked up from where he was cooking, to meat Will's stare.

"My guess would be that they are dying off from lack of food. You remember when we passed through Milford..." Hannibal started, but Will cut him off.

"Yes, the piles of bodies stacked up, the…zombies eating off of them and dropping dead several steps later. What? Are you trying to say they are dying? That they're decaying?" Will asked.

Hannibal looked up from the food supplies he was working together into a basterdised version of his fine cuisine. "I believe," he began stirring the materials together "that whatever it is that is reviving them has a limited lifespan." Hannibal looked up at Will to judge his reaction. Will snorted; he didn't really want to believe that these people were dead and had been revived. Hannibal was fine with this, oddly enough; Will had never questioned the mental processes of his friend.

Ignoring the argument that could have sprung from the virus concept that Hannibal had just presented, Will steered the conversation in the path that he wanted. "Have you ever actually watched someone die?" Hannibal looked at Will, eyebrow slightly cocked in a way asking if he had yet to realize what he was asking. "I mean," Will continued "not someone you killed yourself, but actually watched someone else kill another person?"

Hannibal set the spoon he was stirring with and in hailed sharply. He saw in his mind's eye his mother walking across the snow covered field, clothes on fire, dead but still moving. She collapsed inches before Hannibal and Misha, reaching for them as the life left her eyes. Hannibal watched as her body was consumed by the fire that had devoured her clothing demolished her body. Misha was curled up into his side, crying and screaming, as Hannibal dragged her inside the cabin.

Blinking several times to clear his mind, Hannibal responded, "No." Calm, cold, collect, no sign that he had just relived a part of his traumatic childhood. Will sighed and leaned his head against the glass window. He shifted the gun on his shoulder and turned back to the corpses outside.

"Why are we heading north? I thought Jack said that they were setting up a blockade for non-infected survivors. Why aren't we going that way?" Will cast a glance back at Hannibal who was now pouring soup into the two cracked bowls they had left. When he received no response, Will asked again, "Hannibal, Why aren't we going south?"

"Because, dear Will, we need to go north. Jack was wrong about where we needed to go," Hannibal stated as he placed the bowl of food in front of Will and then sat down on the ledge across from him. Will was struck by the mirror like effect this dinner had on the first breakfast Will and Hannibal had eaten together all those months ago.

"You know," Will began after taking several bites of the food "You never did explain to me what you meant about the mongoose and the house comment."

Hannibal paused in his eating and smiled, a predatory smile but a smile none the less, "I would have thought it would have been made obvious by this point. You, Will, were the protector of my interests within the FBI. Now, you protect me from the creatures outside. All of this is just like a Mongoose will attack snakes to protect its home."

Will, who had taken several bites of food as Hannibal was talking but stopped, "So…I protect you from the FBI, I mean the snakes, from finding you?" Will watched Hannibal's reactions, even though there were none, as he spoke "So all I was was a buffer, a distraction to keep the FBI and Jack from suspecting you of being a killer? You…you were the Chesapeake Ripper weren't you,"

Hannibal did not respond. Will stared at him, demanding a response of some kind with a glare. With an agitated sigh, Will got to his feet and, leaving the gun with Hannibal, walked over to the small cluster of blankets that he had made into a bed earlier.

"We have to go south," Jack yelled from the back of the car, he was sitting in between Abigail and Alana. Will was sitting in the passenger seat, and Hannibal was driving. Hannibal was the only one who could maintain a sense of calm in the situation. Jack continued, "They are setting up a blockade on the edge of North Carolina, apparently whatever is causing this has not covered the entirety of the United States."

Will looked back at Jack, he was sitting in between the two women, breathing heavy and not looking well. Jack was sweating bullets, the wound on his hand was getting worse and he did not look well at all. "We, We have to pull over. Jack doesn't look well," Will looked from Jack to Hannibal and then Back to Jack.

Hannibal turned on his directional and pulled over to the side of the road. When the car stops Alana climbs out and Jack falls out of the car behind her. He lays on the ground panting for air and then hurls the contents of his stomach onto the asphalt. He fights to hold himself over the pool of stomach acids and half-digested food but his strength is failing him and he almost face plants into it when Alana catches him and pulls him to lay on his side in the grass on the side of the road. Will's door is open, he is sitting sideways in his chair, watching as Alana wipes Jack's sweat-drenched forehead and Abigail (who had climbed out the other side of the car) is trying to get him to drink some water from the bottle she is holding.

The two are stopped by Hannibal, who had gotten out of the car without your knowledge and had walked around to the three of them. He grabs Jack, pulling him by the waist, to the tree line and sits him against the base of one of the trees. Hannibal crouches before the injured man and examines him. He sighs to himself, although Will can somehow hear it when Alana and Abigail who are closer, cannot. The two girls are pushed to the car by Hannibal's instructions and told to get inside. Will is called over.

His memory is faulty at this point. He remembers, he knows, the general idea of how this event took place. But he is not entirely sure about the details though. Hannibal leads Will over to Jack, walking slowly so as to buy himself some time.

"You have to shoot him," Hannibal calmly explains, handing the gun to Will as they make their way over to the sick man. Will knows he is giving Hannibal a "what the fuck" look as he is passed the gun. Hannibal continues, "He is dying. If you allow him to die of the virus running through his veins then he will try to kill us. If you shoot him now, in the head, you will save us all the trouble later of killing him. It is a mercy killing, Will."

"If it's so merciful, why don't you kill him yourself?" Will bites back. His anger is taking over his mind now and he knows this. How could Hannibal expect something like this from him? Jack is both their friend and he is ill.

Jack is not dying, he is just not well. Will wants to argue this point; he wants to make Hannibal see that it is not the virus that is causing this change in Jack. But he knows it really is. He can see it when he looks into Jack's eyes, he can see the missing puzzle pieces from the murders. Will knows Hannibal is right. So taking the gun, that same revolver that Hannibal kept in his desk at his office, Will aims for Jack's head.

It is easier to pull the trigger this time; he only needs the one shot. Not like Hobbs when he had to fire ten times to drop him. Jack isn't moving around, Will's vision isn't clouded over in red, he can still feel time passing at the correct speed and frame rate. Jack's brains coat the tree behind his now lifeless body in a red mist, the ground to the left and right of the trunk also get some of the life blood. Jack slumps forward, dead, never to walk again as one of the monsters. Abigail is screaming and crying in the car, Alana tries to comfort her.

Will mutters tom himself, for the last time, "This is my design."


	3. Chapter 3

They are only a day's walk away from New York City now. The numbers of dead wandering around has grown but that was to be expected considering where they were. The closer to a city one got the bigger the population, the bigger the more dead walkers going around. Simple math.

Winston wanted nothing to do with the town and Will was forced to obtain rope to make a leash to pull him along. The dog knew this was not a good idea, if only his master had the same instincts. A road block had been constructed at the entrance to the city where Hannibal was headed. Not that it really posed a problem for them on foot, and it had done little to keep those infected out.

They bedded down for the night in an old McDonalds. It was not Hannibal's ideal location to stop but it had been the best choice at the time the surrounding buildings had far too many windows and no back room that they could lock themselves in for the night. There was little conversation; Hannibal was busy pawing through maps trying to find their location and the way to his targeted building. It looked to be the hospital the disease came out of, but Hannibal insisted it was the CDC in the city. Will fell asleep using Winston as a pillow after a very sparse dinner of jerky and pasta.

They should have never come this way, this was a bad idea. Alana had insisted they look for other survivors and help them get to Jack's blockade. So when they hit Milford that was the plan. Abigail was still shaken from watching Jack be killed by Will but she was clinging to Alana like a lifeline. Will had his doubts to her making it through this in one piece.

When they entered the town, they were greeted by a large stack of dead and decaying bodies. Several of the zombies were eating off of them, but they were dropping dead not long after, of unknown causes. Will was holding a shot gun to his shoulder, watching every corner and leading the way. Hannibal followed behind him, Abigail was following Hannibal closely and Alana brought up the rear with Hannibal's revolver.

Everything was going well until they reached the center of town. They should have realized they were being used as bait. It only made sense really. Outsiders being used to draw in large packs of walkers just to be gun down with the rest and then added to the growing pile out front. When Will crossed the threshold to the town center, a gunshot filled the air. Then another and another after that. Soon large groups of walkers were filling the streets and Will and Alana searched frantically for a way up one of the buildings.

Hannibal had pushed Abigail behind him, his gun having been returned to him to free up Alana's hands, and was providing cover for the group. That was when Alana got shot. It was not a direct hit, but it grazed her upper right arm. Will tore off a section of his shirt to use as a bandage and then called to the other two.

"This isn't working. We have to find a way back out of the city and to the car," Will pulled the shot gun to his shoulder and fired a burst of buck shot into the group of zombies before him. He led the charge back to the outskirts. But his luck, and ammo ran out before they could reach the car. And the zombies were getting closer.

He wasn't really sure how it happened. He remembers standing next to Alana still trying to pull the trigger to his empty gun. Alana is shouting something over the sound of her gun, but Will can't make it out. The feeling of fingers acing around his arm and pulling him back sends his mind into overdrive. They are behind him now, not just in front of him. But his panic is for no reason, for it was Hannibal who was pulling Will, Hannibal who was making his way to the car and leaving Alana alone.

"No stop," Will yelled, attempting to break free and make his way back to his friend. But Hannibal will not let him go. Abigail is already in the car watching them out the rear window over the back of the backseat. Her eyes are filled with unshed tears and Will understands what it is they are doing. He yanks against Hannibal's tight grip and begins yelling, "Let me go, we can all get out of this. We can make it. ALANA!"

Hannibal throws him into the back seat and hits the child safety lock to keep him in the car. Will struggles to climb into the front seat, but Hannibal is already in the driver's seat and is pulling away. Will's eyes widen and he turns to join Abigail in watching what is happening behind them. He sees Alana getting over run by zombies, still firing her gun until it seems to run out of bullets as well. He is proven wrong a second later when she places the gun to her head and pulls the trigger. When she drops to the ground, they swarm over her and that is the last Will, will ever see of her.

The next morning begins with breakfast for once. It's an odd occurrence to say the least. But Hannibal assured him that food would be at the CDC so there was no reason to continue to save the meager pickings he had found along the way. Winston happily leads the way through the city now, as if all of the threats had been picked off over night. Will muses to himself that Hannibal killed all of the zombies in the area while they were sleeping. He doesn't really believe it, but it is a comforting thought.

The building was only an hour or so march away from the CDC. Not that Will was in a hurry to get there, but the arrival at a safe place was hopefully comforting. After five or six deters, around fallen buildings or zombies, the three were standing in front of the building. There was grating over the windows, the doors were welded shut, and there was no way around the building to see the back.

It was noon, and Winston was growing restless. Will was pacing back and forth and Hannibal was sitting in front of the building, studying it. Every once and awhile Hannibal would get to his feet and would pace back and forth, looking for a way in.

After an hour of this Will was about to lose his mind, "Well this was a waste of time." Hannibal looked over at him. "We walked all this way to get to a closed building. Now what? Stand here and pray that some magical world will open it. Open sesame!" Will was pissed as this point.

"Yelling will not solve anything, Will," Hannibal said advancing towards the building. He pulled a large wooden beam over towards the building attempting to lean it against it. "Oh yes, and rearranging the architectural debris is going to make a difference."

The beam slid to the side and slammed into one of the upper floor windows. The glass shattered and fell to the ground at Hannibal's feet. Will gapes like a fish at the man in front of him. "Shut your mouth, Will. It is not very becoming."

Will blinked several times and shut his mouth. With a sigh he walked forward to stand next to Hannibal and looked over at his traveling companion. He looked up at the window and then at the beam. Without saying a word he began to climb up the slant to the shattered window. When he reached the top he broke out the rest of the glass and pulled himself though.

Darkness, Will dropped onto the floor in suffocating darkness. He grumbled and sighed to himself as he got to his feet and shut his eyes trying to force his eyes to adjust faster. When he could finally see, Will made his way into the darkness and tried to find a way to the front door. He stumbled several times before finding the stairs. He then tripped over his own feet once before running, literally, into the wall that holds the key pad to unlock the door. The glowing bright green color that emanates from the keys blind him for a second, before will jabbed the "Open" button and waited for the heavy grind of machinery as the door opened and the metal gate lifted.

The passage in resembled that of a garage door, and Will began to wonder if this was the main entrance, not for the first time either. Hannibal ducked under the rising metal doorway and Winston ran in after him.

"No lights, Will?" Hannibal commented as he made his way into the building while Will closed the door again. Winston sat at Will's feet, panting happily, watching Hannibal's every move. Said man had made his way down the hall to a center console. He pushed several buttons and faintly smiled when the room lit up in a faint glow. "Much better."

Will let out a bark of laughter before following him to the control panel. Staring down at the massive quantity of buttons in minor awe, "How did you know which one to hit?"

Hannibal looked up from the collection and pointed at one in the upper corner of the panel, "That one says 'lights' above it. I inferred that, that meant it turned on the lights."

Will glared at Hannibal and walked over to the wall. He rested his back to it and slid down, his knees bent and pulled close to his body, and Winston sitting in between them. "So what exactly are we doing here?"

Hannibal stopped what he was doing and looked over at Will before he spoke, "It seems as if this is the source of the outbreak. Or at the very least the point at which it spread the fastest."

"Which would be the reason it was a stupid idea to come here in the first place. Would it not have been a better idea to have gone the opposite direction?"

"Not if we wanted to find a cure. To do that we must retrace the virus to the source, and so we are here."

"Oh! So you're back to playing God again, going to save the world to make up for your previous crimes? Just erase the Ripper as if he never existed by saving everyone from some horrible ending at the hands of a walking corpse? Or maybe you just want to cure people so you can go back to eating them?"

"You are over tired, Will. Perhaps the walk here and the lack of sleep has finally caught up to you, you should rest." Hannibal was adjusting something on the control panel as he spoke.

Will growled in frustration, bashed his head against the wall and shut his eyes. He was tired, he admitted to himself angrily, and it was not because of his lack of sleeping, that was nothing new. He just needed to…

The car had run out of fuel. No surprise there. They should have stopped for gas at the last station, but Hannibal had insured them that it would be fine. Well it wasn't fine, and now they were walking. Hannibal and Abigail were marching in step ahead of Will. Neither spoke but both seemed to have a bond before the world went to hell so this was no surprise to Will. Envy spiked through Will's heart, like a dull knife, at the thought that she preferred Hannibal's company to his own.

When the two did speak, Will paid little attention, he could care less about what they were talking about because neither seemed to want him in the conversation or notice when he didn't contribute. So he focused instead on everything around him. The first thing he noticed was the lack of people, but given the circumstances this was to be expected. The second was that nothing was making any noise, except for them. No birds were singing, no grasshoppers chirping, no squirrels or any other small game were making any sounds; everything was still. But it was the third thing that confused Will. The sun was not rising to the right of them like it should be if they were going south like Jack had commanded. Instead the sun was rising in the left, they were going north.

This continued on for a week, or at least Will thought it had been a week, before something happened. It was not what someone would want to happen, but it had all of the warnings before it took place. In Philadelphia they came across a band of survivors. A ragtag team of men and women living among the ruin of the once grand city. Held at gun point Hannibal, Will and Abigail were lead to the leader of the group. He was around thirty years of age, Caucasian, with black shoulder length hair, shocking blue eyes and a broken smile. He sported several scars on his face as well as across his bared torso. Half his face was covered in a skull tattoo matched to his faces bone structure.

"Welcome," the man stated, standing from his "throne" and walking towards the three. He spread his arms wide in a gesture of welcome but in fact he was showing them his weapons. When he moved his arms the sleeveless trench coat pulled back and bared a holstered pistol, the strap of a rifle slung over his right shoulder, and a serrated dagger on his belt. At the same time, both Will and Hannibal pushed Abigail behind them to shield her. Seeing this, the man smiled and laughed, "Ah! You have no reason to fear me. I…am but a humble servant to the great gods. They have provided us with a place to stay, to live until all of this has come to pass. We will be all that lives, due to his graces. You will be treated like our honored guests, please rest easy. My men will see to your quarters."

Will and Hannibal glanced at each other, keeping Abigail separated from everyone around them as they were lead to a building on the edge of the encampment. Two men were leading them, both with rifles slung over their shoulders and across their chests. One man was behind them, and upon Will's glance back, his rifle was armed and being carried with him. When the door to the building was opened, and the group pushed inside that was when will and Hannibal spoke.

"We need to leave," Will whispered to Hannibal, leaning in as close as he dared. Hannibal nodded in agreement, and Abigail, head strong girl that she was, picked that moment to insert her own opinion.

"Well if we can take one of their guns, or maybe even more we can break away and continue on our path. All we have to do is kill…"

"Kill whom, Mademoiselle?" The man from before, their leader, was standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest; his eyes alight with an icy fire that threatened to freeze his opponents to death. He turned to call over his shoulder, "Silas, Anderson; bring these two to the hold. Justin, bring the girl to the pitch. Make sure she is ready. I should have known that you would not agree with his lordship."

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who favorite/followed this. I have never had so many people respond to something I wrote as quickly as you all have. Please feel free to review, It helps me feel like I'm doing something right.

Umbreon'sHat: I am sorry to say this fic will only have another two chapters before it ends. But I have been toying around with a paranormal Hannibal idea (almost like a Dresden files cross over with Will as the inspector). Thank you so much for the review :) it really made my day.


	4. Chapter 4

Will's eyes opened and he realized he was alone. He slowly got to his feet and called out, "Hannibal, Hannibal! Where are you?" Silence answered him and Will began to panic. If something had gotten Hannibal well, that was something Will did not want to think about. He had already lost everyone else that mattered to him; he didn't need to lose his last friend in the world. He began to walk down the hall, calling out Hannibal's name every three or four steps.

He checked every door, wondered down most of the halls, and when he was finally thoroughly sure that they were completely alone in this building Will began to calm down. Hannibal could be anywhere, truth be told he was probably in a lab working considering the man never slept. Winston padded along behind him, stopping every once and a while to sniff at the ground before running a small distance to catch up to Will's heels.

It came as no small surprise to Will that he found Hannibal in the lab, once he found that lab that is. The man was mixing several liquids together, a lab coat over his clothing to protect them from any spills, and probably him as well. Will breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Hannibal was alive and well. Said man looked up and cast a small smile his way, one of the customary not-really-smiling-but-trying-to-to-appear-normal types of smiles, before he set the vials he was holding down and writing something down in a note pad.

"How long have you been at this?" Will asked, suppressing a yawn and rubbing sleep from his eyes at the same time. Winston sat at Will's feet when he realized his master was not going to be walking around anymore.

"Not very long at all, you have only been asleep for three hours and I found the lab half-an-hour after you began your nap. Are you feeling better? Anymore enlightening dreams?"

"No," Will commented giving a half laugh, "No new ideas as to how to get out of this situation. No Dues ex machina to fix this problem. Just nightmares, old memories, everything that has passed."

"Where are you in the timeline of events? Assuming of course that everything is happening in order,"

"Abigail's death."

"The perhaps you should get some more sleep," Hannibal suggested, and at Will's appalled face added "The sooner you get through these nightmares to the less violent moments of your dreams your psyche will continue to taunt you with what has passed, only by reliving and laying those memories to rest can you move on."

"Which of your graduate school textbooks did you recall that from?"

"A very long book by Vivilos that I read in my childhood. I believe it was from "Connections and the Willing Mind" but I read so much of his work so long ago that I am not completely sure if that is correct."

"You read psychology textbooks as a child? What type of demented parents did you have?"

"My father was a very well educated man. He appreciated the finer things in life; riches wine, arts. I spent a good deal of time with my tutors that he had hired honing my knowledge of the richness of the world around me. My mother was more philosophically inclined. My earliest memory is sitting in front of the fire place in the great hall of Lecter Manor curled in her lap listening to her reading Aristotle to me."

"Am I hearing things, or is Dr. Hannibal Lecter actually telling me something about his past?"

"Contrary to popular belief I am human like everyone else."

"Yes, you just enjoy eating your own kind, unlike most people."

"You should try it some time, you might get a taste for it."

Will's retort was cut off with a yawn, and Hannibal stopped what he was doing to cast a commanding glance his way.

"Get some more sleep Will, I know you grow tired of me saying this but you do need your rest. You will be of no help to me if you cannot stay alert, and I have no need of your assistance at the moment."

"But…I…"

"Will, I will wake you up when I need you. Please take a seat over there get comfortable and get some rest," Hannibal pointed to a table off to the far side of the room that he was not using and the chair sitting next to it. Will nodded, knowing that arguing with that man would be a useless act, and he walked over to the chair. Winston followed Will over to the chair, and curled up at his feet where the two drifted off to sleep.

Abigail was tied to a stake, as if she was a witch from long ago. Hannibal and Will were locked in a shack not too far off, but not close enough to really do anything. The two could only see the edges of what was going on between the gaps in the slats of wood that made up the wall. Well, at least Will saw it all, Hannibal was standing behind him not trying to see what was going to happen.

"We need to get out of here, we have to help her," Will yelled as he began to pound his fist against the boards. Will watched as the kindling and logs beneath Abigail's feet were lit. He punched, kicked, scratched and ripped at the boards to get free, to help Abigail, she couldn't die like this.

"Oh great gods above, char the flesh of this nonbeliever so that her body may be consumed by your loving followers to continue on your ever just and bountiful reign." The leader spoke as he stood before the blaze. Will could hear Abigail screaming in agony and Will began yelling as he pounded on the boards trying to get out and help her. He watched as the fire began to make its way to Abigail's body, the flames licking her feet like a loving pet. A hand fisted Will's hair and his head was slammed forcefully into the wall. His world went black.

Winston was barking. Will's eyes snapped open as he felt a sharp pinching sensation at the nape of his neck. A hand was clenching the hair on the back of his head tightly, pressing his face into the desk and making his movements limited. Will twisted his right arm in attempt at grasping at the wrist of the hand that was holding his head down. He laced his fingers around the watch on their wrist and pulled, hoping to leverage the hand off him. He knew it wouldn't work, there was no way he could strong arm his way out of this.

"Will, calm down. Just breath," Hannibal's voice cut through the fog of panic that had flooded his brain. Will's right hand tightened on Hannibal's arm, still trying to pull it from his hair. His left hand was flung forward attempting to reach something on the table to stab at Hannibal's hand or back into his leg. His breathing began to even out, and his vision began to cloud over. His left hand stilled in its quest for anything and his right hand loosened its grip. "Everything will be okay Will. You are going to be fine."

"Will, Will wake up," Hannibal's voice broke through the haze. Every breath he took was agony; his lungs were burning as he inhaled due to the smoke in the air. Will's eyes were on fire when he was able to open them. Hannibal was kneeling above him, looking down at him. Everything was dark and blackened.

Will pushed up from the ground bracing himself on his elbows as he tried to sit up. He looked around at the charred remains of the small village they had been in. The shed they were housed within was no longer standing, having probably been used to start the blaze. It took several seconds for Will to make out the bodies. Each impaled on stakes, posts, metal rods, anything and everything that could be sharpened and stabbed through a body. Each person was carved up, presumably missing organs.

His attention was drawn back to Hannibal and realized that something was amiss about his appearance. His arms were coated in blood up to his elbows, his shirt was drenched as well. But the thing that threw Will off the most was the fact that blood was smeared with across his face. Slowly the puzzle pieces clicked into place and a realization that never would have occurred to Will if this "apocalypse" hand never happened happened. Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will got to his feet and backed away from Hannibal's now crouching form. He stumbled several times in his hasty retreat. When he had cleared several paces away from the man he turned and ran. Hannibal did not give chase. Everything fit together, everything made perfect sense, how could he have been this naïve as to not have seen this sooner? Why did it take the end of the world to understand that his confidant, his best friend, his ONLY friend was a serial killer. But of course not just any serial killer, thee serial killer that Will was hunting, the very same one who Jack had been pursuing so vehemently for these past few years. The last person left alive that Will knew, and it was the very same killer he was trying to rid the world of. He really should have seen this coming.

Will's eyes opened. The room around him was dark. He was lying on the floor of the lab but he could see Hannibal working away on the other side of the lab. His eyes felt heavy, and he could feel Winston's breathing beneath his head, lulling him back to sleep.

Five days, Will walked for five days before he felt it was safe to stop. Before his system demanded he get some sleep, or at the very least that he find some food. He had been lucky not to encounter a large collection of dead by now. With no gun and no weapon of any kind, in his condition, he would not pose much of a challenge for them. He broke into the next house he came across. It was a decent sized place, probably had belonged to a white-collared family middle to upper-middle class. It had been abandoned in a hurry, the smell of decaying food that had been left on the stove and in the fridge permeated everything in the house. Will tore through cabinet after cabinet before finding some canned beans and a can opener, thankfully hand crank not electric.

He spent the next few minutes shoveling as much of the cold food as possible into his mouth before his stomach began to reject it. That night he battled to keep food down, eating at far larger quantities then he probably should have after fasting for so long, but his hunger persisted. The mild fever and shakes that accompanied his nausea helped to lock his mind in a dreamless sleep the first night.

The next morning he riffled through the rooms sorting everything and anything left behind into piles of decreasing use and value to him now. He left the house with, presumably the son's, sports bag slung over his shoulder loaded up with food, clothing and bottles of water from the tap after he let it run for half-an-hour to clear out the built up iron from nonuse. The neighbors had provided him with another back pack filled with more food and water rations and one particularly creepy house had equipped him with a new shot gun along with several boxes of shells. The owner of the house had to have been a hunter because the walls were covered in taxidermy deer heads along with several birds and other smaller creatures mounted to the walls. The man who owned this place, pictured in a gilded frame above the mantle, would have contested Garret Jacob Hobbs for his kill count.

He was going south. He was aiming for Jack's barricade knowing that Hannibal would probably be going the same direction but he might not end up at the same points at all. Three days into his southward hike Will crossed paths with the remains of what looked to be another camp, like the one with which Abigail had been killed in.

Will drew his gun; he kept it pressed to his shoulder, ready to fire at the first sign of movement. Rustling to his left drew his attention and Will readied himself to pull the trigger. But when he shifted the tarp that was blocking his target from him a blur of brown shaggy hair tackled him to the ground. His gun was knocked to the side, and Will began to panic. This was how he was going to die, his face ripped apart by the jaws of…the thing on top of him licked his face. Will opened his eyes and looked up at a dog, drool pouring from its open mouth, happily panting while stair down at him as it sat on his chest.

"W-Winston?" Will stuttered out, the dog barked once in response. Happy to be remembered the dog got off of him and sat next to Will as his master sat up. It was then that Will actually looked at his surroundings and endeavored to envision what this place must have looked like before it was decimated. From what he could tell Will was seven miles from his home in Wolftrap Virginia. He had been walking down familiar streets, cutting through familiar forest paths, and trekking along familiar hiking trails for at least a day and a half and hadn't realized it. Will smiled as he got to his feet. At least he had someone to keep him company now.

"Come on boy," Will called out slapping the side of his leg twice to catch Winston's attention. The dog barked once and raced to catch him. The two then resumed their trek. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all, especially not that he had a guard dog.

Will was floating, his eyes were open and he watched as the ceiling tiles passed by overhead. The feeling of weightlessness infected his mind as he drifted in and out of reality. He couldn't move a muscle, he couldn't really feel anything. Then he heard the sound of nails on linoleum, which must be Winston following him. And something black drifted in front of his view of the ceiling. His eyes drifted shut again.

Will's reprieve ended sharply with the sound of cans colliding together. He sat up and scrambled for his gun, praying that one of the dead hadn't been snacking on him while he slept, or that Winston hadn't been hurt. The reality of course was much worse. Standing at the side of the ravine looking over the edge was none other than Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He smiled his trademark half smile at Will as he placed his shoe against something sitting on the side of the bank. Will looked from the man's eyes to his feet. He fought the erg to scream and draw attention to the group when he realized that the object was his backpack, loaded down with food and supplies for himself and Winston. And he watched as it was sent over the edge clanging and banging as it went. It was then he realized that his secondary bag, the one that had ammunition in it as well, had been the one to wake him up.

"Good morning, Will," Hannibal stated walking over to the remains of his small camp fire and picking up a small bag that was set near the edge. He shouldered the bag and smiled again at him. "Are you ready to go?"

Will gaped at Hannibal, then to the edge of the ravine in which his supplies had just been kicked over, and then back to Hannibal. "What makes you think I want to go anywhere with you? All you have done is manipulate me, torture me, and drag me all over this hell like I am some kind of stuffed animal that a five year old totes around everywhere. And on top of that, you just pushed my supplies over the side of a cliff, which is not the way to make friends Hannibal. I mean you're a killer for fucks sakes. Do you really think I plan on going anywhere with you?"

"Yes" Hannibal responded as if he had not just had this tirade laid out before him. "Because, within this bag I have the ammunition to your gun. If you want to live you will come with me."

Will's jaw dropped as he stared the man down, he was one serious piece of work. But what other choice did Will have in the end. He had none, except to follow Hannibal where he led.

Authors Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I apologize a thousand times if it could make up for how very long this update took me. I initially blame my father for making me watch Man of Steel about five times in one week, which led to Russell Crowe obsessing. But that really is not a good excuse and thankfully we are watching/reading/discussing Casino Royale in my British Fiction class so Mads has worked his way back to the forefront of my mind. Next chapter/ last chapter will be tonight or tomorrow depending on busy I am


	5. Chapter 5

Will woke abruptly, sitting up as soon as his eyes opened. Something was very wrong with this situation. He was no long inside the CDC building; in fact he appeared to be sitting outside of it. Thankfully Winston was with him, growling and barking at something behind Will. Will could hear voices behind him, murmuring and whispering, faintly over the sound of his dog. He tuned to look at the building, and what he saw sent terror racing down his spine.

Hannibal must have located the front door of the building when he slept. The main doorway was large glass windows that cast light into the front of the building's main entrance way. Standing directly behind the glass was Hannibal smirking down at him, watching him, and waiting. But the murmuring was not coming from him. Standing on the edge of the shadows behind Hannibal was a small gathering of people, ten to fifteen at most.

Will scrambled to his feet, his body feeing lethargic and not wanting to respond to his commands. He stumbled twice in the two steps it took for him to reach the pain of glass. When he did though he slammed his fist against it and glared at Hannibal.

"Hello, Will," Hannibal stated. His tone was calm and his voice quiet, almost as if to set the people behind him at ease as well as Will. Will bared his teeth to Hannibal, growling in frustration, and his vision blurred up.

"What did you do to me?" Will asked. His fist slid off the glass and his body began to give. He braced his hands against the glass, this time to hold him up, not out of anger. His breathing was shaky and he was wheezing. Each time he inhaled felt like a series of needles were driven into his lungs, or like he had swallowed glass. His whole body was fighting with the effort to keep him upright, he was sweating profusely.

"I needed to see if the antidote would work," Hannibal stated observing Will.

"Do-Does it?"

"For your sake I would hope it does."

"You infected me? Why, why couldn't you have gone to get someone else?"

"It wasn't wise to leave the complex. And at the time it would have been complicated to transport a live specimen back into the facility via the way we came in."

"Well you obviously managed to find the front door, didn't you?"

"That was only after the fact."

"And what about them?" Will gestured to the people slowly making their way closer and closer to Hannibal. Their muttering was getting louder and Will realized a horrifying fact, they were not speaking English. They probably couldn't even understand it.

Hannibal frowned for a moment in regards to them and then met Will's eyes again before he spoke, "I believe you already know what will happen to them."

Will felt a rush of adrenalin through his system and he began yelling, "No, you can't do this. You can't kill them." Hannibal ignored him and stepped over to the side of the glass pain. Imbedded in the wall, on the inside of course, was a key pad that in case of an emergence dropped the storm shutters. He keyed them on and Will watched as they slowly dropped to the ground. "Hannibal you can't do this, you can't leave me out here. Hannibal!"

The doors met the ground with a slam and a groan of the protesting machinery, and Will was left with the sound of Winston's barking. He sat out there for several hours, not wanting to move for fear of drawing unwanted attention to himself, or in case Hannibal came back. But a small voice in the back of Will's head yelled at him with increasing volume as time passed that Hannibal would not be coming back. Because Hannibal knew that his antidote had not work, Hannibal knew that Will was dying and for some sick and twisted reason Hannibal could not offer to let Will die peacefully in a mercy killing.

When darkness fell, Will began walking.

Three days later his fever had spiked, he couldn't keep going anymore. Winston was still trailing along behind him, but his dog could smell his body decomposing and beginning to break down. It wouldn't be long until the virus killed him and then reanimated his corpse. Will was finding that each step forward was harder and harder to accomplish. And then finally his bod gave out. He lay on the side of the road for several hours before he could get any of his limbs to move again. He was slowly able to extend his right arm forward and pull himself with it shortly after words. He could hear Winston slowly walking on the road next to him, and then he couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything.

He was sweating to death, of that he was sure. It was getting harder and harder to pull himself along the ground. His vision, though he was only watching as the pavement passed by him slowly, went white and then black. He couldn't see. The smell of death and decay that had dominated the air for the past few months vanished entirely shortly after. The copper flavor that had imbedded itself on his tongue vanished next and then finally he collapsed completely. Will lay on the ground feeling his breathing slow, until it stopped all together.

A sharp breath rattled his lungs, wind pelted his face and felt like freezing needles. His cheek was resting against something soft and it took him several seconds to identify it as leather. Something was roaring over the wind, and Will scrambled to place the sound of the engine in the car. Will sat up, slowly, testing his body's capabilities. But everything was back to normal. His body didn't hurt, his mind wasn't gone. The smell of rotten flesh was nonexistent. His surroundings came into focus next.

He was sitting in the front passenger seat of a sports car. A convertible or at least it might have been considering there was no roof, and Hannibal was driving. Said man looked very out of character with aviator sunglasses on and his hair begin blown in every direction by the wind. He must have felt Will watching him because he glanced over at Will from the driver's seat and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Will. Sleep well?" He asked. His right hand left the steering wheel and dropped to the shifter to change gears. The car picked up even more speed. Will ignored the events that had transpired previous to this, he forgot about Hannibal using him as a lab rat, what mattered was where they were going.

"Where…" His voice came out as a croak from disuse. Hannibal let out a bark of laughter, something was most certainly wrong here.

"Jack's boarder is not far from here, another thirty-six miles I would imagine. You have been asleep for a long time."

Will blinked repeatedly and sunk back down in the chair. He watched as the world raced past in a blur and didn't even realize when he had drifted off to sleep.

"Will, Will, can you hear me?" Hannibal's voice broke through his dream. Will sat up with a start, breathing heavy and almost falling out of his chair. He looked around the room quickly, trying to figure out where they were. But he stopped when he realized his surroundings were familiar, extremely so. Will relaxed back in his chair as he looked around Hannibal's office. And then his gaze fell on the man himself, sitting across from Will, his right leg crossed over his left, in his normal high retail suit not a hair out of place and his hands folded over his raised knee.

"What, where…"

"You fell asleep. I apologize for begin so late to our appointment but I had a personal matter to take care of regarding Abigail." Hannibal calmly explained. Will blinked several times, Abigail was alive, he had fallen asleep in Dr. Lecter's office, Abigail was alive, it had all been a dream, Abigail was ALIVE. Relief washed over Will like the tide on a beach, but just like the ocean recedes so too did his peacefulness as he focused on the Dr. His mind was screaming at him to get away from this man, because even if it was a dream, he had had the realization that Dr. Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. That the man sitting across from his was the one proving Jack right and showing Abel Gideon to be a fraud.

No! His mind asserted itself. That was not true, Hannibal was not a murderer, and the thought had just been a figment of his warped psyche nothing more.

"I'm sorry," Will stated getting to his feet, still trying to recover from sleeping hi that highly uncomfortable chair. "But I'm not really feeling very well today. Can we reschedule for tomorrow at six o'clock?"

"Of course," Hannibal said as he rose to his feet to help Will steady himself. He placed a hand on his friends shoulder and walked him to the door. "Go home and get some rest, and try not to let Jack twist your mind too tightly around the Ripper."

Will nodded and left. He made it as far as his car before his phone went off. It was a text from Jack to get to the Maryland Theater as soon as possible, they had a body there that the needed Will's expertise for. Climbing behind the wheel of his car, Will sighed and then made his way to the newest crime scene.


	6. Note

Several people have been asking me about the ending to this fic, truthfully when I fit had the dream about it I was just as confused. So there is no one specific answer to what is the ending there are actually four endings all open for interpretation.

1) Will dreamed everything and we are still in the continuum of the tv show.

2)Hannibal and Will are on their way to the refugee camp. Hannibal's antidote worked and he is now going to carve a bloody path through the remainders of society. The scene in Hannibal's office at the end is wishful thinking on Will's part and he is dreaming in the car.

3)Will is dead. The last two scenes (the car and then the office) are just his last thoughts as he dies from the virus.

4) this ending I really never thought about until just recently reading through it. So Will wakes up in Hannibal's office at the moment from the beginning of the fic. The Zombie apocalypse will take place but this time Hannibal, Will and crew do not have the jump on the situation.

So yeah, pic one of the four and that is your ending. Truthfully I like the first and the fourth one...but yeah its all up for interpretation on the readers part of what is real or not. Hope this clarifies some things up for people.

-Sydman24


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